Debby Does…

I was talking to a friend the other day. I’ve known her more than 30 years, having met during the pageant time of our lives. She is easily one of the most stunningly beautiful humans I have ever known—inside and out. I don’t think I could accurately describe how exquisite she is. We have been so very lucky to have created a lifetime bond out of a time of intense competition. She is truly a life long friend.

We were having a very frank discussion about aging and beauty and the maintenance of those things. She is in an industry where beauty is essential, and I’m contemplating what my next endeavor will be and what I need to look like as I embark upon it. We definitely have different paths ahead of us, and yet our feelings about aging and what to do about it are quite similar.

We don’t know.

Since this is my blog, I will only speak for myself. I talk a very good game about letting my hair grow gray and allowing my wrinkles and scars to show life’s journey across my face and body. I’m here to tell you that’s a lot of talk. That’s the kind of talk that shows up when I want to seem evolved and like I know the secrets of the universe. That, my friends, is some bullshit that I sell from time to time.

The truth is that I’m not happy about what I’m seeing.

I can attribute some of it to bad decision making: I drink more than I should and I’ve spent the last 4 years eating like crap.

Some of it is definitely grief. The sadness of loss took up permanent residency in my eyes, my smile, and my aura. It’s not the dominant element there, but it’s always hiding in the shadows of my being.

I guess the rest is aging—time, menopause, and the elements.

I’ve got some really ugly big freckles; my mouth has started to turn down; I’m fat; my hair is not what it used to be; and that youthful dewy glow I used to have upon waking in the morning has been replaced with a face that needs an hour or so to settle back into place! There’s more, but you get the drift.

So, what do I do about it?

Well, the weight part is logical to me. I need to burn more calories than I consume. I started that part today. More short walks will lead to more long walks and better decision making at mealtimes is the result of better planning. I can do that. Maybe not every day, but more days than not. That feels manageable.

My face is another story.

I will admit to doing Botox one time. I’m not guilty about it. I was tired of seeing 5th period piano class stomping across my forehead. That will be a chapter in my memoirs. Sociopaths tickle the ivories…

The Botox was fine, though my eyebrows drooped a bit and I’m pretty sure the one side is now crooked. I probably won’t do it again, but there were a few moments when my forehead was so smooth and shiny, it was like I’d never seen a teenager or had a worry in the world. That was nice.

Other than that, I’ve just tried to make peace with my ever changing face with some help from Bobbi Brown’s Jones Road, better moisturizing, and the complete avoidance of the sun. Truthfully, I’ve been avoiding the sun for the past 4 years. It’s amazing what 20 radiation treatments will do to change your idea of that big burning fireball in the sky.

Is that enough?

I do not know. I do recognize that, as a person, I lack a sense of gravitas which makes me seem much more girlish and youthful. People still ask me if my mom is home when I answer the phone. That’s the charm of being a lyric soprano!

Still, should my face match my voice and my sense of being? Is there any victory in aging, other than staying alive? Or in simple survival, despite the marks it leaves behind? Does it matter if we still think we’re pretty? Will society ever truly value the journey from youthful beauty to the changing beauty of life’s experience? Considering the prevalence of filters, I’m not confident in hazarding a guess.

There was a short piece in the Sunday New York Times about Lauren Hutton. She would be happy to give up modeling, but until women in her age bracket show up, she’s going to keep going.

“I do it because I think it’s useful to wave the flag for full-grown women. I looked around and saw that there were no older women in ads or on magazines. There were all these guys getting old—actors, athletes who still had value—but no women. So I keep working.”

I bet there are days that she hates her neck too.

If you came here looking for guidance and wisdom, I haven’t got it. Right now, I do have a lot of negative self talk which isn’t helping. I think if I can just focus on healthy and happy, I may start to see myself differently. I’ve always been so proud of my “warts and all” approach to life, but when it comes to beauty, I’m at a loss. I miss the way I used to look. I liked my face and body of 10 years, 20 years ago.

But, it’s not coming back.

I always like to end my writing with some incredibly deep or comic nugget. Today, I’ve got nothing that fits the bill. I do have an open mind, an open heart, and the burning desire to always be better. I guess I’ll rely on that as I push forward in this crazy ride we call life.

Love. Peace. Dogs.